


Papered Hearts

by MajorTrouble



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Deep Throating, Dirty Talk, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Professor!Jaskier, Research, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Trans Character, Valdo Marx Being an Asshole
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MajorTrouble/pseuds/MajorTrouble
Summary: “Eskel. My brother. He’s a senior researcher at the Institute.”Jaskier felt his jaw drop open. “What. How are you only mentioning this now?”Geralt shrugged one shoulder as he continued to eat. “I didn’t think it was relevant before.”“Fair enough.” He sighed, looking down wistfully at his pasta. “I’d give anything to be allowed in there.”“Hmmm. Anything?”He looked up to see Geralt smiling wickedly back at him and his heart felt like it skipped a beat. He licked his lips and straightened in his seat, trying to look earnest. “Oh yes, anything.”“I’ll see what I can do.” Geralt’s eyes had a glean to them that held a promise. It sent a shiver down Jaskier’s spine.-----------------------------Or: Jaskier has been trying to get the research together for his book on the historical evolution of the ballad, but SOMEONE has been thwarting his attempts to get into the archives of the prestigious Morhen Institute Historical Collections. Geralt tells him he can help with that... for a price.(Careful, y'all, the plot is mostly just an excuse :)
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 79
Collections: Geraskier Holiday Exchange 2020





	Papered Hearts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adevinecomedy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adevinecomedy/gifts).



> Hello! This is written for the incredibly patient and very kind [adevinecomedy](https://adevinecomedy.tumblr.com/). I hope you enjoy!

“Doctor Pankratz, are you telling us that despite having nearly ten months of leave from your position - _paid_ , I might add, by the university foundation - you have yet to make any significant progress on your research?”

Jaskier winced, pulling the phone slightly away from his ear. The Dean of Arts and Humanities had an uncharacteristically nasally voice for such a large man, and it had just gotten worse over the course of this conversation. He could just see the other man in his office, eyes squeezed shut, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he did when faced with a particularly irritating student. 

“Look, Benedict - _Benny_ \- I’ve been trying to get access to the Morhen Institute collections, but I’ve been rebuked several times. And the Academy has been very gracious, but they just don’t have the compositional material I need. I do have some preliminary outlines done, but I need more time - “

“First of all, _Julian_ , don’t ‘Benny’ me. You have had ten months to get access. One would hope that with a reputation like yours, getting into the collections you need wouldn’t be such a problem. Second, you have three months left on your research sabbatical. You were supposed to be in the final stages already. I’ve already had to make excuses for you in front of the Senate and the Board of Governors. It’s my own reputation on the line here, now, too.” The other man paused and Jaskier heard him take a deep breath before he sighed. “I’m not saying this isn’t a difficult task, but you know that academics are only as good as what they publish. This was supposed to be it for you, Jaskier. A magnum opus and a book dedicated to the evolution of the ballad. You’re letting yourself down.”

If Jaskier wasn’t already laying on the floor of his studio, he would have flopped down onto the nearest available surface. Benedict was right, of course, but the last ten months had been one disaster after another as he tried and failed to get together all the material he needed to write his book. 

The music itself was nearly finished and for that he was grateful. At least he had that going for him.

“Two more months. It’s all I ask,” he tried, adding as much plaintive tone to his voice as he could. 

Several beats of silence greeted him before he heard Benedict sigh again. “I’ll send over the paperwork for an extension. However!” he started before Jaskier could say anything. “This doesn’t mean you get any more money. You’re going to have to live with the grant until the end.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. It wasn’t as if the money really mattered, but Benedict didn’t need to know that. “Of course, Benny! You won’t regret this!” 

“Just make sure you finish by the deadline. I’m not covering for you after this. Five months, and if there’s no manuscript at the end, you’re done.”

“Thanks, Benny, I can always count on you.”

“Ya, ya,” Benedict answered, but there was a fondness to his tone that made Jaskier feel a little warm inside. “Don’t fuck this up. Goodbye, Jaskier.”

“Bye, Benny!” Jaskier ended the call and then threw his arm out across the soft carpeting of his studio. He stared at the egg carton-shaped foam tiles on the ceiling as he willed himself to move. Five months wasn’t a long time and he really needed to start writing. Or at least, collating his notes into something coherent. 

In the ten months since he’d started his project, he’d written to the Morhen Institute Historical Collection no less than twelve times. After the first three polite rejections, he’d become more forceful. The collection had the Continent’s premier works dating back nine centuries - there was nowhere else like it, and they kept a tight hold on their works, not lending out the material and rarely allowing outside scholars in to research. It all seemed, to Jaskier at least, counterintuitive to the whole academic enterprise. Knowledge should be freely shared and made available as much as possible. 

Whoever Valdo Marx was, Jaskier was sure the man didn’t have a compassionate bone in his body. The letters he’d penned on behalf of the collection had grown steadily more hostile while Jaskier’s had become more earnest and pleading. Even asking to speak to Marx’s supervisor had been summarily shut down as unnecessary. Which, rude. If Marx wasn’t going to give him what he wanted, then someone with more clout surely could. It was all in the name of research!

Despite the frustrations of dealing with the Morhen collection’s irritating roadblock, Jaskier had managed to gather a fair number of examples and writings on what he needed for his historical book on the evolution of ballads. It had also informed his composition, which he was immensely proud of. It had led, in a roundabout way, to what he considered the best part of his life right now, and possibly part of the reason he needed an extension. 

Jaskier glanced at his phone and then sat bolt upright as he registered the time. He was supposed to be at the restaurant in ten minutes. Quickly, he scrambled up off the floor, flung the door open to his studio and raced down the hall to his bedroom. Thankfully he’d showered before throwing on the sweatpants and hoodie he was currently sporting, so it was easy to strip out of his clothes and put on the three piece suit hanging on the back of the closet door. 

It was emerald green with a light grey button-down to go underneath and silver cufflinks in the shape of treble clefs. He stood in front of the mirror in his closet, carefully rearranging his hair, for far longer than necessary, before bolting back down the hallway, only pausing long enough to slip on dark brown loafers and lock the front door behind him.

The restaurant was only three blocks away and he paused outside to catch his breath, which meant he was only fifteen minutes late when he walked through the door, nearly a record for him. He spotted Geralt almost immediately - the tall man with his pristine white hair, done up in a bun, was difficult to miss. He slid into the booth across from the other man, grinning broadly at the quirked eyebrow. 

“I apologize for my tardiness. Was on the phone with my Dean,” Jaskier offered, slipping his hand across the table and beaming when Geralt took it without hesitation. 

“Hmmm,” was the only reply he got, but the corner of Geralt’s mouth lifted in a small smile and Jaskier felt his stomach flutter. “You know what happens when you’re late.”

Jaskier pouted, already noticing the lack of menus. “Yes, yes. What horrible thing are you making me eat tonight?” Ever since they’d started dating five months ago, he’d been notorious for ordering what Geralt had deemed the most boring things on the menu. So, since this also coincided with Jaskier’s notoriety for constantly being tardy, Geralt had made a rule: if Jaskier was more than ten minutes late, Geralt would order food for the both of them. It meant that Jaskier had been forced to expand his palette accordingly. 

He found he didn’t mind much. 

“What did your Dean have to say?” Geralt asked instead, ignoring his question with one of his own.

Jaskier sighed. “I’m very very behind on my research for my book. As you know, I’m supposed to be on a research sabbatical. Well, the music is nearly finished, but I’m missing key pieces of information to write the book.” He shrugged, staring down at their joined hands. 

They’d spoken about his work before, but hadn’t gotten into the details. Geralt liked being mysterious about his past - which Jaskier found equal parts intriguing and frustrating - and currently worked at one of the two bars he owned with his brother, Lambert. He knew that because that’s where he’d met the older man, getting spectacularly drunk after the tenth rejection letter from the Morhen Institute and passing out on the bar. Thankfully, Geralt had been more amused than irritated and when Jaskier had come back to apologize, they’d spent most of the night chatting before Geralt had taken him back to his tiny office to make out like they were teenagers. 

“So I convinced Benedict to give me an extra two months, but that means I’ve still only got five months to finish the bloody thing, and I’ve not really even got a vague idea on how to do that right now.”

Geralt nodded thoughtfully, his fingers running idly around the base of his wine glass before he picked it up and took a sip. “You’ve tried the Morhen Institute?” he asked, casually.

Jaskier blew out a breath, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. He scowled down at the tabletop. “Of course I have. But they won’t let me come and look through their collection. Some little git keeps answering my letters, telling me they wouldn’t let just _anybody_ paw through their works and since I’m _nobody special_ , I couldn’t hope to be granted that privilege.” Geralt huffed a laugh, and he looked up, surprised. “What? You think that’s funny?” he couldn't keep the hurt from his voice.

“In a way,” Geralt answered, leaning back as the waiter deposited their meals in front of them. 

Jaskier was delighted that his appeared to be a pasta dish, though the noodles weren’t anything he recognized and there were prawns on the top. They paused their conversation to take a few bites, and Jaskier found himself nearly swooning at the bursts of flavour that passed over his tongue. The sauce was rich, but not heavy, and had a peppery kick to it that complimented the sauteed prawns perfectly. He looked up to see Geralt watching him intentionally and rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, alright, it’s fantastic. Now please tell me why you were laughing.”

Geralt took another bite of his own meal, which looked to be half a chicken surrounded by crisp vegetables and a bundle of smashed potatoes, before answering. “It was probably Eskel’s assistant answering you. Hmm… Valdo? I think?”

“Yes! That’s the bitch!” Jaskier brandished his fork in confirmation. “Wait, whose assistant?”

“Eskel. My brother. He’s a senior researcher at the Institute.”

Jaskier felt his jaw drop open. “What. How are you only mentioning this now?”

Geralt shrugged one shoulder as he continued to eat. “I didn’t think it was relevant before.”

“Fair enough.” He sighed, looking down wistfully at his pasta. “I’d give anything to be allowed in there.”

“Hmmm. Anything?” 

He looked up to see Geralt smiling wickedly back at him and his heart felt like it skipped a beat. He licked his lips and straightened in his seat, trying to look earnest. “Oh yes, anything.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Geralt’s eyes had a glean to them that held a promise. It sent a shiver down Jaskier’s spine.

*

Two days later they were on their way to the Morhen Institute. It was an eight hour drive and Jaskier spent most of it asking Geralt questions about his brother. Well, sort-of brother. Like Lambert, they’d grown up together, but weren’t related. He was obviously the most literate of the three - which Jaskier decided was a point he would continue to tease the other two on no end - and had gone on to get his degree in medieval studies, of all things. Eskel had worked at the Morhen Institute for the past twelve years, and was only slightly younger than Geralt. 

“So Lambert’s the baby? That explains a lot,” Jaskier mused, much to Geralt’s own amusement. They’d checked into a hotel nearby and Jaskier was already splayed out on the huge king-sized bed whilst Geralt splashed water over his face in an attempt to freshen up. They were supposed to be meeting Eskel for dinner in an hour. 

Geralt hummed as he moved back into the room, walking around the bed to sit carefully in one of the chairs by the window. “Don’t let Lambert hear you say that. He won’t take too kindly to being reminded.”

“Oh, what’s the worst that could happen? He’d spike my drink? He’s already done that and I survived.” 

Geralt huffed a laugh as he tilted his head back and draped his arms over the sides of the chair. Jaskier turned his head to watch him for a moment before clicking his tongue in admonishment. Geralt opened an eye to look over at him balefully.

“The bed is much more comfortable than that silly chair, you know,” Jaskier husked, stretching again and arching his back slightly. “You should join me. I’m sure I could make room.” He grinned as Geralt growled lowly, stood up and stalked over to the bed. Before Jaskier could move, the larger man swarmed up over him, caging him in with his body and making Jaskier’s breath catch in his throat. 

Geralt watched him a moment, seeming to contemplate his next move before leaning down to kiss Jaskier soundly. A whine built in Jaskier’s throat as Geralt took his time, pressing kisses down his jawline and licking against his pulse point. 

“I do remember you saying you’d do anything for this favour I’ve granted you,” Geralt’s voice was a dark whisper in his ear and Jaskier felt a shock of heat pass through him. He lifted his hips to buck up against Geralt, seeking any kind of relief for his suddenly aching cock. Geralt’s knees on either side of his hips squeezed against him, holding him still. He kissed and sucked the tender skin along the base of Jaskier’s throat, making him gasp and moan.

Jaskier’s thoughts scattered as Geralt’s tongue worked its way down along the open collar of his shirt. The older man sat up slightly, running his hands along Jaskier’s arms before intertwining their fingers and forcing them above his head. His whole body was like an exposed nerve as Geralt pressed his weight down on top of him, slowly grinding their still-clothed cocks together. 

“Do you remember?” Geralt prompted when Jaskier’s only continued response was to make cut off gasps and pants.

“I - I seem to recall, maybe, perhaps, saying some - something to that effect,” Jaskier managed to get out. 

“Hmm. Good.” Geralt was trying to drive him insane, he was sure of it. And when the older man looked down at him, smiling that tight, secretive smile that Jaskier was beginning to understand meant he was up to something, and then rolled off of him completely, Jaskier decided he could be excused for the high sound of indignation he made. “Better get ready for dinner. Don’t want to keep Eskel waiting.”

“I hate you,” Jaskier said, very quietly, staring at the ceiling and trying to get his breathing back under control. 

“No you don’t.” Geralt was somehow smug as he stood and rummaged through his duffel bag, seemingly unfazed by his own arousal as he pulled out a blazer and clean trousers. “Because good things come to those who are _patient_.”

Jaskier’s laugh was just on the edge of hysterical as he sat up, running his fingers through his hair in an attempt to fix it. “I’m beginning to regret promising things I’m not sure my ass can handle.” 

When he looked over at him, Geralt’s smile was predatory. 

He swallowed, mouth suddenly very dry. 

“Be a good boy and hurry up, Jaskier.”

Yes, insane sounded about right.

*

Eskel was waiting for them in the quaint little restaurant just down the road from their hotel. Being this close to Yule meant that everything was decorated in cedar boughs and holly berries and covered in sparkling lights. Secretly Jaskier loved everything about the holidays, mostly the plethora of festive specialty cakes and pies, but he reveled in picking out the perfect gifts for his friends. He’d mostly forgotten about it this year with the looming deadlines taking up the majority of his capacity for rational thought. 

He decided to panic about that later. 

When Geralt introduced his brother, only Jaskier’s professionalism kept him from swooning. Eskel was somehow broader than Geralt, which should have been intimidating, but he had a shy demeanor and soft smile that Jaskier found extremely endearing. Scars cleaved down one side of his face, but did nothing to detract from his overall beauty. And he was beautiful, Jaskier decided. Golden bronze skin, black hair tied up in a bun similar to Geralt’s, and warm hazel eyes that shone almost gold in the low light of the restaurant. The scars bisected his upper lip, causing it to pull up at the corner, giving him a perpetual smirk that set Jaskier at ease.

When Geralt caught him staring, he only grinned and winked - _winked_ \- before turning back to ask Eskel about how his work was going. 

“Fine, mostly. I’ve acquired some new manuscripts and musical scores from an estate sale. Twenty-two boxes of mostly loose paper. I’m glad I’ve got an assistant to do most of the grunt work now. It would have been hell a year ago.” 

Jaskier barked a sharp laugh before catching himself. At Eskel’s raised eyebrow, he shook his head. “Nothing, nothing. Please, continue!”

“Hmmm,” Eskel hummed, and Jaskier was surprised at how like Geralt he sounded. “Didn’t know you found grunt work funny.”

Jaskier felt his cheeks heat a bit at the accusation, but luckily Geralt stepped in before he could try to redeem himself.

“No, he’s just had opportunity to be in correspondence with your assistant. It was not entirely… friendly.”

It was Eskel’s turn to laugh and Jaskier found himself melting a little at the low, warm sound. 

What the fuck? He needed to get his head on straight. He was dating Geralt, not Eskel, and he was perfectly happy with things the way they were. 

Wasn’t he? _Best not to think about that,_ he told himself. _That type of idea only gets you into trouble. Look what happened last time._ Priscilla had called it “cheating”. Jaskier had countered that they had never said they were exclusive. It had all gone downhill from there.

“Valdo does sometimes have that effect on people. What did he do this time?” Eskel looked over at Jaskier expectantly.

“Oh, he, uh, he rejected my request to see the collections twelve times.” Jaskier’s cheeks coloured a bit at the admission. But he watched as Eskel’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. 

“Did he now? Well. He’ll be extra surprised to see you tomorrow, then,” Eskel grinned, and it had the same predatory edge as Geralt’s had. 

Jaskier shivered. _Fucking fuck._

He managed to steer the conversation to more mundane topics for the rest of the evening, then listened intently while the brothers caught up. There was something inherently intimate about the way they spoke to each other that Jaskier couldn’t quite put his finger on, but he shrugged it off. They’d obviously known each other for nearly their entire lives. Of course they’d be familiar. 

Eskel walked them back to their hotel after they were finished, Jaskier tucked between the two men as the evening air turned icy. Much like Geralt, Eskel was a veritable furnace and Jaskier’s head was fuzzy from the wine and good food, so he could be forgiven for wrapping his arms around both of their waists as they walked, grateful for the warmth. 

Just as they neared the doors to the main lobby, Geralt pulled them both to a stop. Jaskier made an inquisitive sound in his throat as the two brothers seemed to have a silent conversation just over the top of his head before they both turned to him. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Jaskier,” Eskel said, grinning at him and gathering him into a hug and Jaskier squeaked as the air was forced out of him. The man was a veritable mountain with arms that wrapped around him like coils of rope. When Jaskier inhaled, all he could smell was Eskel: sharp pine and a hint of woodsmoke, laced with beeswax. It made him slightly dizzy and he had to choke down the whine that built in his throat. 

So it was that he made another entirely undignified sound when Eskel leaned down further to breathe in his ear, “You be good for Geralt, and I’ll see you tomorrow.” He drew back, looking Jaskier in the eye, a wicked glint in his own, before releasing him. Jaskier nearly staggered as Eskel moved past him, enveloping Geralt in that same bear-like hug. His mind reeled at the implications. 

It went nearly blank as Eskel brushed a kiss against Geralt’s cheek before stepping back and heading back down the sidewalk the way they’d come. Jaskier spent a long moment staring after him before Geralt was wrapping him up in his arms and leading him back inside. 

“Come on, Jaskier. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

As soon as the door closed to their room, however, Geralt was crowding Jaskier against it, nearly ripping the seams on his shirt to get at the sensitive skin along his neck and shoulder. Quickly, Jaskier shrugged out of his coat and let it drop to the floor at his feet. He stripped off his sweater and went to undo the buttons on his shirt before his wrists were caught in one of Geralt’s hands and forced over his head. 

This was becoming a familiar position to him, and his body responded to it, heat coursing through him, crackling up his spine. 

“I saw you, little sparrow,” Geralt growled in his ear. He paused to bite kisses down his throat and across his shoulder, some hard enough to bruise. Jaskier could only take it, panting open mouthed through Geralt’s onslaught. 

It took his brain a few seconds to parse what Geralt had said and form a response. “Saw me?” he repeated, questioning. “Saw me what?”

Before he could answer, Geralt’s mouth was on his, tongue demanding entry whilst his body pressed into him. Slowly he rotated his hips, grinding against him and making Jaskier whimper into his mouth. 

Finally he pulled away and Jaskier keenly felt the loss. He knew how he must look, completely dishevelled, achingly aroused, eyes dark with lust. Geralt grinned at him again and he felt like his knees might buckle. 

“Come here,” he ordered and Jaskier nearly tripped over himself to obey. He followed Geralt further into the room, watching as he shed his coat and kicked off his shoes before sitting on the edge of the bed. Jaskier stood in front of the older man, suddenly nervous. Where before he’d felt the effects of the wine, now he felt completely sober, and so his anxieties pushed themselves to the forefront, making him hesitant. 

“Take your clothes off.” Geralt leaned back on his hands, dragging his gaze up Jaskier’s body and he shivered. Jaskier had never been body shy, and if Geralt wanted a show, then he’d get one. Slowly Jaskier removed the rest of his clothing, carefully undoing each button on his shirt, dragging the material down his arms and draping it over a chair. He kicked off his own shoes and socks before languidly pulling on the zipper of his trousers, smirking at the low growl that started to bubble up from Geralt’s chest. 

Finally he turned around, pulling both the trousers and his boxers over the curve of his ass and down his well-muscled legs, dropping them to the floor. He hesitated again, unsure of what to do now that the show was over, but again Geralt seemed to know what he needed.

“Come here,” he repeated and Jaskier moved to stand between his legs. Geralt dragged his blunt nails over the sensitive skin of his back and reached down to cup his ass. “On your knees.”

Jaskier sunk gracefully down to the floor at Geralt’s feet. He felt Geralt’s hands in his hair and closed his eyes, basking in the sensation. 

They’d never really talked about this aspect of their relationship. Geralt knew that Jaskier liked obeying him, liked taking orders. In truth, Jaskier liked not having to think for himself. It helped get him out of his own head and quieted his thoughts to a more manageable level. At least, for a little while. He knew that if it ever went beyond this simple thing, they’d definitely need to discuss it, but for now, it was enough. 

He gasped as Geralt bunched his hand in his hair, making his scalp tingle and sending a pulse of heat straight to his cock. He could feel it bob between his legs, drooling pre-come and he idly wondered if they’d have to pay to clean the carpets. 

“I saw you watching Eskel,” Geralt said conversationally, like he didn’t have his lover on his knees before him. “You want him,” he stated simply. 

Jaskier’s eyes widened as ice crawled up his spine. “Geralt, no, I - “ He stopped as Geralt smoother his other hand down the side of his face to cup his cheek. 

“It’s alright. I understand. He is quite handsome. Hard to resist, I’d say.” Geralt moved his hand to Jaskier’s chin, tilting his head up slightly and running his thumb along Jaskier’s bottom lip. “Very difficult, in fact. And I should know.”

Jaskier’s jaw dropped open as Geralt’s words registered, but before he had a chance to say anything, Geralt had hooked his thumb over his teeth and pinned his tongue in place. 

“Hmmm. I want your mouth, little sparrow, and while I fuck your face, I’m going to tell you a story.” Geralt rearranged himself, unzipping and pushing his trousers down just enough to get his cock out. Jaskier’s mouth watered at the sight of it and he leaned forward at Geralt’s urging, taking the head into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it, enjoying the feel of it as well as the ragged gasp it elicited from Geralt. “That’s it. Hand around my ankle. You let go if it’s too much.” 

Jaskier did as instructed, at the same time leaning forward, letting Geralt’s length slide further into the heat of his mouth. He sucked firmly before relaxing as Geralt got a firmer grip on the back of his head. 

“Yeah, just like that,” Geralt groaned, slowly rolling his hips and dragging his cock in and out of Jaskier’s mouth. Saliva pooled and dripped from his lips, making the glide easier as it slid down the shaft. “ _Fuck_ that’s good. Your mouth is a dream, Jaskier,” he panted as he started to thrust harder, building up a rhythm. Jaskier swallowed intermittently, feeling the head touch the back of his throat but go no further. 

He was in for a ride, then.

“Hmmmm. I know you want him. He’s gentle, but wicked. He’ll work you over till you _beg_ for it.” He thrust a little harder to emphasize the word, nudging further into Jaskier’s throat. “And he’s bigger than me.” Jaskier made a garbled sound that had Geralt huffing a laugh. “Yeah, you’d like that, too. Have him fucking your ass while I take your mouth? What a sight you’d be, little sparrow. He’d fill you up so _good_.” Geralt’s rhythm became more erratic and he looked down at Jaskier, nodding. Jaskier drew in a breath through his nose before Geralt thrust harder, popping through the ring of muscle in his throat. He reached down to feel himself there, wrapping the fingers around Jaskier’s throat as he thrust deep a handful more times before pulling out completely, letting Jaskier gasp for breath. 

Jaskier licked his lips and took Geralt into his mouth again, sucking hard and making the other man clench his fists in his hair and groan. He caught Jaskier’s eye again, who nodded, and took a breath. 

Geralt began fucking his throat in earnest, sharp, deep thrusts that had him trembling and coming after a few moments. He withdrew slowly and Jaskier sat back, lungs heaving and eyes watering. Geralt surged forward to take his mouth in a bruising kiss, reaching down between them and wrapping his hand around Jaskier’s neglected cock. Jaskier could do nothing but lean into it, nails digging into Geralt’s shins as he hung on.

Geralt broke the kiss, hand still firmly stroking Jaskier as he looked down at him, that predatory gleam back in his eye. “You’re going to ask him, tomorrow, to fuck you.” Jaskier gasped as his orgasm peaked, rushing over him like a wave, and he came into Geralt’s fist, crying out as the pleasure washed over him. He looked up into Geralt’s eyes as the other brushed his hand through Jaskier’s hair. “Because you said _anything_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank-you for reading!! Kudos and comments fuel my very soul.
> 
> Come visit me sometime [MajorTrouble](https://major-trouble.tumblr.com/)


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